Slow

Tigray, Ethiopia – Saba Gedion was 17 when the peace deal that ended the conflict in her homeland of Tigray in northern Ethiopia was signed in 2022.

She hoped then that fighting would be a thing of the past, but the last few months have convinced her that strife is once again looming, and she feels paralysed with despair.

“Many people are leaving the region in droves,” Gedion told Al Jazeera as she sat under the shade of a tree, selling coffee to the occasional customer in an area frequented by internally displaced people (IDPs) in Tigray’s capital, Mekelle.

Gedion – herself a displaced person – is from the town of Humera, a now-disputed area with the Amhara region that witnessed heavy clashes during the 2020-2022 war between Ethiopia’s federal government and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF).

The now-21-year-old remembers the horrors she witnessed. Some of her family were killed, while others were abducted into neighbouring Eritrea, she says. She has not heard from them since.

Though she made it out alive, her life was turned upside-down when she was forced to flee to Mekelle for safety.

Years later, Gedion sees similar patterns as people leave Tigray – most headed to the neighbouring Afar region – once again looking for the safety that has become elusive at home.

“Recurring conflict and civil war have made us zombies rather than citizens,” she told Al Jazeera.

In recent weeks, enmity between Ethiopia and Eritrea has escalated amid separate accusations by both sides.

Speaking to Ethiopia’s parliament in early February, Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed addressed his landlocked country’s access to the sea, saying “the Red Sea and Ethiopia cannot remain separated forever”. This has led to accusations by Eritrea that Addis Ababa is seeking to invade its country and trying to reclaim the Red Sea Assab seaport, which it lost in 1993 with the independence of Eritrea.

Ethiopia, meanwhile, has accused Eritrean troops of occupying its territory along parts of their shared border, and called for the immediate withdrawal of soldiers from the towns of Sheraro and Gulomakada, among others. Addis Ababa also accuses Eritrea of arming rebels in the vast Horn of Africa country.

Observers say the heightening tensions point to an impending war between the two countries – one that could once again involve Tigray.

Unhealed scars of war

In Tigray’s capital, a once-booming city of tourism and business, most streets are quiet.

The young people who previously frequented cafes are now often seen applying for visas and speaking with smugglers in the hope of leaving Tigray.

Helen Gessese, 36, lives in a makeshift IDP camp on the outskirts of Mekelle. She worries about what will become of the already struggling region should another conflict erupt.

Gessese is an ethnic Irob, a persecuted Catholic minority group from the border town of Dewhan in the northeastern part of Tigray.

During the Tigray war, several of her family members were kidnapped, she said, as Eritrean troops expanded their hold of the area.

As the war intensified, she fled to Mekelle, about 150km away, looking for safety. Her elderly parents were too frail to join her on foot, so she was forced to leave them behind. Like Gedion, she has not heard from them or the rest of her family since 2022.

“My life has been held back, not knowing if my elderly parents are still alive,” she told Al Jazeera, the stress of the last few years making her seem much older than she is.

In Mekelle, it is not uncommon to meet people who are anguished or frustrated – some by the renewed tensions, and many by the trauma of the previous conflict.

More than 80 percent of hospitals were left in ruins in Tigray during the war, according to humanitarian organisations, while sexual violence that defined the two-year conflict is still a recurring issue. Hundreds of thousands of young people are still out of school, foreign investment that created jobs in the past has in large part evaporated, and the economy remains crippled after years of war.

Meanwhile, nearly four years later, the federal government’s decision to withhold foreign funds meant for the region is deepening a humanitarian crisis. The bulk of the public service in the region, for instance, has not been paid for months.

The Ethiopia-Eritrea relationship has also deteriorated in recent years.

The longstanding foes had waged war against each other between 1998 and 2000, but in 2018, they signed a peace deal. They then became allies during the 2020-2022 civil war in Tigray against common enemy, the TPLF.

But the relationship between Ethiopia and Eritrea has been in sharp decline since the signing of the 2022 accord that ended the Tigray war – an agreement that Asmara was not party to.

‘Acts of outright aggression’

Earlier this month, Ethiopia’s Minister of Foreign Affairs Gedion Timothewos wrote an open letter acknowledging the presence of Eritrean troops loitering on the Ethiopian side of the border and calling for them to leave.

“The incursion of Eritrean troops …” he wrote, “is not just provocations but acts of outright aggression.”

Asmara continues to deny the presence of its troops on the Ethiopian side, and Eritrean Minister of Information Yemane Gebremeskel has called such accusations “an agenda of war against Eritrea”.

As a sign of the worsening of the relationship between the two neighbours, Ethiopia’s Abiy, in his address to lawmakers early in February, also accused Eritrean troops of committing atrocities during the Tigray war. The accusation was a first from the prime minister, following repeated denials by his government about reported mass killings, looting and the destruction of factories by Eritrean troops during the Tigray conflict.

Eritrea’s government rejected Abiy’s claims about atrocities, with Gebremeskel calling them “cheap and despicable lies”, noting that Abiy’s government had until recently been “showering praises and state medals” on Eritrean army officers.

As the tensions escalate, many observers say war between the two is now inevitable and have called for dialogue and the de-escalation of the situation.

“The situation remains highly volatile and we fear that it will deteriorate, worsening the region’s already precarious human rights and humanitarian situation,” the United Nations Human Rights spokesperson, Ravina Shamdasani, said this month.

Kjetil Tronvoll, a professor of peace and conflict studies at Oslo New University College, told Al Jazeera a new war would have “wide-reaching implications for the region” – regardless of the outcome.

He believes the looming conflict between Ethiopia and Eritrea could take the shape of a new civil war, positioning Addis Ababa against Tigray’s leadership yet again.

From Ethiopia’s side, he argues the objective would be regime change in both Asmara and Mekelle, noting that “regime change in Eritrea may lead to Ethiopia gaining control of Assab”. For Asmara and Mekelle, the aim would also be regime change in Addis Ababa, he suggests.

“If it erupts, it will be devastating for Tigray,” Tronvoll said. “The outcome of such a war will likely fundamentally alter the political landscape of Ethiopia and the Horn [of Africa],” he warned, pointing out that regional states could also be pulled into a proxy war.

Fears for the future

For many in Tigray, memories of massacres committed during the 2020-2022 war are still fresh.

Axum, a UNESCO World Heritage site in the central zone of the Tigray region, is known for its tall obelisk relics of an ancient kingdom. But for 24 hours in November 2020, the city was the site of killings carried out by the Eritrean army. “Many hundreds of civilians” were killed, rights group Amnesty International said.

While the killings were denied by both the Eritrean and Ethiopian governments for many years, this month Abiy acknowledged they had taken place.

However, despite speaking of “mass killings” in Axum, he has been silent about the fact that the Ethiopian and Eritrean armies worked together openly as allies during that war.

Marta Keberom, a resident in her forties who hails from Axum, says very few people in her hometown have not been touched by violence in the last five years.

“The killings that happened during the war wasn’t just a conflict, it had the hallmark of a genocide where whole families were murdered without a cause,” she said of the killings that targeted Tigrayans.

“To relive that,” Keberom said, speaking at an IDP centre in Mekelle, would be “something I can’t begin to comprehend.”

Waiting for customers at her coffee stand in the city, Gedion is also afraid of what might come next.

She once aspired to be an engineer, but since being uprooted from her village, she now dreams of a future far away from Ethiopia.

She has already contacted a smuggler to help her leave, she says, through Libya and on towards the Mediterranean Sea – despite the extreme risks of such a journey.

“I would rather take a chance than die a slow, certain death with little future prospects,” she said.

Is there a better sensation for a traveller than when a train speeds out of a tunnel? The sudden flood of light, that howling rush of air. Clearly, it’s not just me who thinks trains are the new (old) planes, with 2025 having seen a 7% rise in UK train travel, and more Europeans than ever looking to hit the rails.

It’s late December, and I’m heading out on a slow-train journey across the historic railways of the Swiss Alps and the Italian lakes. It’s a trip of roughly 1,800 miles (2,900km), crossing five countries, almost entirely by scenic daytime trains.

What is clear from the off is how easy, and slightly disorientating, this type of train travel can be: drifting through stations, across platforms and over borders, it’s hard to believe we’ve hit three countries in less than a day – the UK, France and Switzerland – such is the ease of each passport stop. Gone are the sweaty finger scans of airport border control, replaced by the most polite immigration police I’ve ever encountered. “You’ve travelled a lot,” one says, with a wry smile and a German shepherd, to which I reply “legally”, just to cover my back.

Outside, the French countryside soon blurs into Swiss hills, all behind a thin veil of white, wintry light. The fields, with their clumps of bare trees, seem suspended in mid-freeze, as though bracing for the full blast to come. As we roll into Zurich, we catch our first glimpse of the milky Alpine peaks.

This is the thrill of train trips: the steadily shifting scenes, the rise and fall of the landscape, leavened like fresh bread. Next morning, we’re greeted with crisp blue skies for our mountain ascent via one of Europe’s most historic train routes, the Matterhorn Gotthard railway. The original line opened in 1882 and was the railroad that changed Europe, slicing a path through inhospitable mountains and isolated villages.

We catch one of the historic trains (the IR46) – keen to avoid anything routed through the Gotthard base tunnel, which bypasses the beauty. In summer, a tourist train – with bigger windows and a bigger price tag – takes the exact same route, famously depicted by JMW Turner and described in awed terms by Goethe. “Here,” he wrote, “it is necessary to submit to nature.” Though it’s the cafe car selling Swiss coffee at eye-watering prices that forces me to revise Goethe: here, it is necessary to submit to inflation.

Phones duly on charge (as is slow-train travel etiquette), we sit back and gawp out of the window for three hours, eating Swiss truffles as the tracks snake the mythic Alps via the famous Gotthard “spirals” – corkscrew tracks built inside the mountains for a steady ascent. It’s the stuff of oil paintings all right – vertiginous gorges, frothing rivers and snow-capped peaks.

At Göschenen, we opt for a lunch stop via a short, even steeper rack-and-pinion route high into the former garrison town of Andermatt, now reinvented as a chic ski retreat. Up here, the snow is thick. Between that and the dark Alpine stone, it’s as though we’ve stepped out into a monochrome photograph. A comforting lunch at the excellent Biselli, along with several glasses of Swiss Ticino red (liquid lunch being another perk of slow-train travel) takes the edge off a dense mist that has crept over the rest of the day’s rail route. Thankfully, Italy soon pushes back, with clear skies and terracotta valley towns, and – just like that – another border is crossed, bringing with it a welcome drop in the cost of a cappuccino (from €5 to €2), enjoyed while skimming the edge of the ice-blue Lake Lugano.

By dusk, we’re at Lake Como. Bags dropped, we catch the last of the light with an easy passeggiata (stroll) round the perimeter of the famous lake, mercifully lacking its high-season crowds. Ornate street lamps line the water’s edge like washed-up pearls and, in the distance, the funicular up to the hillside town of Brunate shines with a string of golden lights that dangle down the slope like lost jewellery. It’s hard to imagine Como any other way.

Next morning, having got into the swing of slow-train transience, we pack up in record time and take coffee at the station. For our final stop, we’re heading in the direction of a much-needed metropolis. Ditching Milan – Italy’s least interesting city – we roll into Turin, one of its most underappreciated.

Stepping off the rickety regional train at Torino Porta Susa, what we find is a vibrant, easygoing student city that appears contentedly trapped in some kind of temporal ragu; a place where 1920s art deco neon signs cling to 18th-century baroque buildings that house vintage shops run by students dressed as if they are in the 1990s.

Miraculously, all this gels, and the student cohort rub along just fine with their more conservative elders, united beneath the impressive porticos that run, unbroken, for more than 18km and are lined with boutiques and historic coffee bars. We round out our first night with an aperitivo at the classic art-school haunt Caffè Università, with its frayed edges and charmingly outmoded daily buffet.

Next morning, Turin’s enviable portfolio of museums and galleries beckon, most free to enter with the Torino card. Here, the time-warp vibes continue within the soaring spire of the 19th-century Mole Antonelliana, now housing the superb Museo Nazionale del Cinema – surely, the only neoclassical building that’s home to an xenomorph egg from the film Alien? Likewise, another repurposed building, the Lingotto complex, boasts an even more outlandish upcycle: the famous Fiat test track on its roof has been reimagined as La Pista 500, a panoramic garden walk, where art installations live alongside the historic skidmarks. Proof that Turin is not interested in simply preserving history, but also evolving.

With a chill in the air, we duck in for a perfect meal at the unassuming yet excellent Osteria Rabezzana, part of the Mangébin circuit that promotes Piedmontese cuisine. The brasato al barolo (beef braised in barolo wine) and local agnolotti del plin (beef- and cabbage–stuffed pasta) are excellent. This family-run restaurant and winery opened just after the second world war, and judging by the convivial atmosphere – full of local people on office festive outings – it has served the city well ever since.

Next morning, we are up and out to catch the 7.36 TGV all the way back to Paris. Drifting in and out of sleep, we take in a last glimpse of the Italian Alps. By the time we reach our Parisian pit stop, day is folding in on itself, and soon enough, we’re slumped back on the Eurostar, flanked by bags of clinking wine bottles cushioned by crushed panettone. Homebound and heady, we reluctantly plunge back into the black of the Channel tunnel, leaving all that light behind us.

Transport was provided by Interrail; passes allowing seven days of travel within one month are £255 youths, £339 adults, £305 seniors (under-12s travel free). Return Eurostar from London to Paris starts from £78. Accommodation was provided by The Home Hotel Zurich (from £165B&B), Hilton Lake Como (from €270 B&B), NH Collection Torino Piazza Carlina (from £203 B&B) and 25hours Terminus Nord in Paris (from €179 room-only ).